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daycourtofficial · 3 months

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Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 6

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: getting some tension here 👀 and yes the opening scene is inspired by How I Met Your Mother. This ends on a sad note for Azzy Baby so a bit angsty

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Masterlist)

Azriel isn’t surprised as his front door opens to find you bursting through it, as you had texted him about fifteen minutes ago if you could come over and tell him something. You quickly lock the door behind yourself, turning to face himself and Rhysand.

“So you guys know how Cassian and I got drunk last night after dinner,” you start before Rhys cuts you off with his hand. “Please don’t tell me Cass made it three weeks with a female roommate before having sex with her.”

You grimace at him, “ew, no.”

A look passes between Azriel and Rhys, one you can’t quite make out, but Azriel stands a bit straighter after your words.

“As I was saying - we got drunk, and after you guys left, we were walking down to go get donuts from the place on the corner when we passed a tattoo parlor and we went in.”

After the dinner with Mor last night, Feyre dropped the four of you off and you all had congregated into yours and Cassian’s apartment. You were tipsy for most of the night, Rhys and Az had the slightest hint of a buzz, and Cassian was bordering on blackout because he “wanted to take advantage of not doing anything the next day”.

Your mention of a tattoo parlor got their attention very quickly. You start giggling then, jumping up and down at what you have to tell them. You can’t contain your excitement as you blurt out, “Cassian got a tramp stamp and I don’t think he remembers it.”

They both look at you in shocked silence then start laughing. They start asking a million questions - “what is it? What color is it?” After a minute you tell them, “he’s awake and I know he’ll be over any minute - we have to remain calm. You need to see it.”

You turn back, unlocking the door for Cassian. The three of you wait in pained silence until you hear the knob turning, prompting you and Rhys to begin two completely different conversations to fill the silence.

“So like I said she was hot-“

“My professor is a jackass who wouldn’t -“

Cassian walks in, too hungover to notice the conflicting dialogues. He walks in shirtless and you start practically buzzing in excitement. You send warning glares to his brothers, trying to communicate, “please please please you need to see it before you say anything”.

Cassian groans a greeting to you three, walking past the three of you to open the fridge door. As he searches for whatever it is he wants, the three of you crowd behind him to look at the little blue candy heart that says “babygirl” in pink script tattooed just above his ass.

Rhys shoves his fingers in his mouth to keep from laughing and Azriel’s about to break when you slap a hand over his mouth. You all try so hard to keep from laughing, which makes it that much harder to restrain yourselves.

Rhys cracks first, unable to stop himself as he asks, “are you lost, babygirl,” referencing that godsawful 365 Days movie Cassian made you all watch a few days ago.

The three of you lose it, and Azriel collapses to the floor in giggles, taking you with him. From the ground you watch Cassian’s confused brain try to make sense of why you all were laughing so hard when Rhys slaps right where the fresh tattoo lied and Cassian yelps in pain.

“Oh gods, why does that hurt so much?” He stills, running straight for Azriel’s bathroom. The three of you follow, standing outside the door listening for Cassian’s moment of realization. He screams in shock, running back out, pointing a finger at you.

“You did this!”

“Me?” You ask, between giggles, “I think it was you, babygirl.”

That sends Azriel over the edge again, and he starts giggling into your hair.

“I’m getting it removed asap,” Cassian grounds out, storming out the apartment, leaving the three of you to giggle and mock him a bit more.

The week goes by in a blur of classes and project work. You don’t see much of Azriel, but the two of you text frequently after sending him that first message about Cassian’s tattoo.

The two of you would send photos of valentine’s hearts to each other, clearly mocking Cassian, asking, “would this look good on my chest?”

You had spent most of the week glued to your phone, waiting for his responses. Feyre even got mad at you when you had dinner at her place on Wednesday because you kept glancing at your phone while she was telling you something.

You began apologizing, telling her about you and Az texting, when her own phone buzzed taking away her attention. You had sat back as her gaze moved to her phone, hands itching to respond to Rhysand.

“Go on,” you told her, “pot calling the kettle back, I see.”

Today was Friday, so you didn’t have any classes, however you did spend the day TAing for several Organic Chemistry labs, the first of which had Rhysand in it. He had offered to drive you to campus, and after dinner with Feyre, you’re wondering if it’s just so he can talk to you about your friend.

You walked into their apartment, ready to meet Rhysand when you were met with a beautiful girl on their couch. She had long blonde hair in a nest braid on her head, and her silver eyes pierced you as you entered the apartment.

You look around, checking that you’re in the right apartment, and offer her a small smile, trying not to look as shocked as you feel as you shut the door behind yourself.

Was Rhys seeing someone?

She tells you, “I’m Nesta,” and you nod, offering her your own name back. She quirks a small smile at that, leaning back in the seat. “Interesting,” she says, “you’re just like Azriel described.” Her eyes roam up and down your body, and her face remains neutral, not giving you any hint of what she sees.

You want to know more about how Azriel had described you, when the man in question comes out of his room and stops at the sight of you talking to Nesta.

“Hey,” he tells you, and you’re too focused on watching him to notice Nesta roll her eyes at how much he had deepened his voice. She starts to say something, and he realizes it, strolling over to give her his notebook to keep her quiet.

The teasing words die on her tongue, replaced by words of gratitude. Azriel breaks eye contact with her to see you’ve started to stand, saying, “I’m gonna go wait outside - uh clearly you have company.”

Azriel looks at you, your face riddled with confusion and something else he can’t quite place.

“No, don’t worry. I was just leaving. I’ll see you tonight?” She asks, turning back to Azriel, “7?”

You wince at the date they’ve made, and Azriel definitely notices. He nods, “yeah, I’ll see you.”

He walks her to the door, before turning back to you, an interesting look on your face.

“She’s uh nice,” you stammer out, heart beating wildly once he shuts the door behind her.

Of course someone as pretty as Azriel needs someone as striking as Nesta. Were you a fool this whole time? To consider he might harbor affections for you? Was all the texting just niceties between neighbors?

“Not to new people she isn’t,” he replies, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“She was nice to me,” which makes it ten times harder for you to hate her. Your face flushed with embarrassment at having read this whole situation wrong. You are internally pleading with any force in the universe to make Rhys hurry up so you can bury yourself in shame and embarrassment away from Azriel.

“Well that’s because-“ but the words die on his tongue, as Rhys strolls out of his room, clearly hearing your prayers.

“Oh there you are, come on let’s go,” he tells you, grabbing his bookbag, snapping at you like you’re the problem, “we’re going to be late.”

Azriel’s brows furrow, “where are you two headed off to?”

Rhys smiles, “didn’t you know? She’s my lovely TA for O Chem lab.”

Azriel pulled up to the building later that night, hopping off his bike after spending hours with Nesta at the library. She was doing a minor in computer science, so she was taking the same electives as Azriel and they met weekly to do their homework together.

Tonight’s topic for review was all about you and how Nesta is certain that you were jealous of her sitting in his apartment and she was equally certain that any man in a city block would be lining up to ask you out.

“Don’t wait too long, Az,” she had told him as they walked towards the parking lot, mostly empty due to how early it was in the semester and the late hour. “She’s awfully pretty and smart. I’d date her.”

She smirked at Azriel’s disapproving look, thanking him for the notes from yesterday’s lecture.

Nesta’s words ring in his head as he spots you at the door of your building, a little black dress adorning your body. He walks closer, opting to leave his helmet on, eyes glued to how the dress covers your curves, and it takes a moment to realize that you’re with someone.

And not just anyone.

A guy. Some guy. Some guy that wasn’t himself.

Fuck, he thinks.

Did he have it all wrong? Were you seeing someone - responding to his texts because of pity? You had been so nice - were you just this nice to everyone? The subtle touches, the quick glances, did he make them all up?

He hadn’t thought much of your lack of communication today - you had told him previously that Fridays are a busy day for you, but now he knows you likely spent the afternoon getting ready for this date.

He keeps the helmet on as he walks past, not even hearing your conversation with the guy. He tries to keep himself from being noticed as he walks right past you, the scent of vanilla and flowers hitting him. He walks through the lobby, straight into the waiting elevator.

His fingers stay pressed on the button that leads to your floor, moving to stay pressed on the “close doors” button. He can’t stomach the sight of you two, and he certainly can’t stomach sharing an elevator with you two, forced into making small talk with your date.

His thoughts whirl and swirl with the texts you had been exchanging all week since you all had dinner together as he leans his helmeted head against the closed elevator doors. Jokes shared between you two into the odd hours of the night.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had stayed up texting someone, not wanting to go to sleep for fear of ending the conversation. He thought he had even heard you laughing through the wall at his dumb jokes. He had even fallen asleep while waiting for your response last night, his phone unlocked next to his face to your chain of texts the first thing he saw that morning.

The doors to the elevator open and he walks to his apartment, unlocking the door, and trudging into his room. He pulls off his helmet, chucking it somewhere in his room. He replaces it with his headphones, cranking the volume up as loud as it will go, to drown out any noise that could filter in from the apartment next door.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #acotar writing

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lyssasdrafts · 20 days

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★ 𓈒 ݁ STAR—CROSSED (rhysand x reader) ⊹

prologue: (written) ✧

𓈒 ݁ ✫ masterlist next

prythian university had always been your dream.

it was a top school, boasting the most famous alumni and their academic achievements. you knew since you were young that this was where you wanted to end up and had worked your whole life for it. even if being accepted was more than enough, you knew it couldn’t end there. you spent your time dedicating everything to the school so you could still claim being valedictorian at your university graduation too.

while it was stressful, prythian was definitely worth it. you loved the campus life, being able to admire all the historic buildings and how big their library was everyday. even your professors, who were rumored to be some of the harshest, were friendly towards you. a part of you wanted to stay in this part of the city forever, it almost seemed better than your life at home.

what you hadn’t expected from going to prythian were the three famous names on campus. they were your most infuriating classmates, blocking your way everyday from the crowds gathering around them and giving you a headache all the whispers about them in class.

azriel was the only one you could tolerate. he kept his head down and sat at the back of the class, and was always quiet and respectful. that’s what you appreciated about him. the only thing that turned you away from him was that one time you were ever late to class and the look he’d given you as you walked in.

he was cold, you thought. you could feel his glare on you whenever you were nearby. he refused to talk to anyone, even turning his head at others who were just asking if the seat next to him was available. sometimes you wondered how someone so reserved could get along with cassian and rhysand.

at least he wasn’t a menace; that was cassian’s job. you probably found him the most annoying out of the three. he was always the one asking the most impractical questions in class, clearly just to get a reaction out of everyone and to annoy the professor. you recoiled everytime he gave that big grin afterwards, thinking he’d done something.

you hated how loud and immature him and his jokes were. you never understood what the appeal of him as a jock was. high-fiving every other person in the halls and causing a group to form around him.

while cassian got on your nerves the most, rhysand was your least favorite. he was the combination of azriel’s coldness and cassian’s boldness. he had always pissed you off ever since he flaunted the fact he got a higher mark on a first year exam. would someone like him even realize how hard you’d worked?

it never failed to confuse you how someone like rhysand, who partied every weekend with his friends and caused a pandemonium everywhere he went, could be compared to you. you, who had stayed up every night in your dorm room alone studying. and he was your competition?

it never made sense to you. you never understood why people were so drawn to them, why they were considered the best of prythian university, and what was so enticing about them when all they’ve done is act like fools to you. even seeing how your professor would smile at them as the boys walked out of class enduringly, despite the boys giving them a headache for the day. you tried to ignore whenever your classmates and even friends asked about them, how much it annoyed you that they were praised for nothing.

perhaps you could understand why some would find them attractive. it’s hard not to have your eyes on them — the way their tall figures walked down the hallway. you ignored the way your eyes lingered at rhysand sometimes, how sometimes you avoided him because you couldn’t hold his gaze and not purely because you hated him.

but as of now, as far as you knew, you wanted nothing to do with prythian’s golden trio and made it your goal to absolutely become better than rhysand.

#— starcrossed #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar imagine #acotar au #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand imagine #rhysand acotar #acotar rhysand #bat boys x reader #night court x reader #night court x you #cassian x reader #cassian x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand au #rhysand angst

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thehighladywrites · 7 months

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masterlist.

a court of thornes and roses

rhysand

ᜊ Beneath their smiles - your friends turn out to be using you, comfort and hurt

ᜊ Texting Rhysand - smau

ᜊ Sugar daddy Rhysand - big dick daddy rhysand spends cash on you and falls in love, breaking your agreement

ᜊ “Just one more, I know you can do it” - rhys has a massive breeding kink

ᜊ “This isn’t goodbye, this is simply see you later” - ex husband/baby daddy rhysand

ᜊ “I got you, darling…” - Rhys takes care of you on your period

azriel

ᜊ Texting Azriel - smau

ᜊ Texting Azriel pt. 2 - smau

ᜊ Need you so bad baby, please… - ovulation week hits you hard, you need your mate

ᜊ Azzie, I think your mom is super hot… - you meet azriels mother and develop a little crush on her

ᜊ I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater… - angst, just plain angst with a somewhat bittersweet ending

ᜊ “Tell me you’re mine” , “ i’m yours” - you dream that azriel was cheating on you and now you can’t look at him without being annoyed. It’s not really his fault, but still… azriel reassures you, promising that you’re the only one for him.

ᜊ “You can even call me daddy, give you someone to look up to” - sugar daddy azriel spoils you

ᜊ “If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so good?” - azriel is a stalker and pervy guy

ᜊ The sessions masterlist - nerdy azriel x bimbo reader

ᜊ “You were flirting with me?” - you doubt Azriel even likes you since all he does is stare into your soul. Azriel thinks he is very clear when he stares, why do you not understand that he is flirting?

cassian

ᜊ That’s your mother but she’s my wife first… - your kids loose their tempers, cassian reminds them who you are, nsfw, light angst, hurt & comfort

ᜊ The Airhead Chronicles: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 - cassian is mates to a ditzy reader, and he loves her more than anything. How do they function together? - FINISHED

ᜊ “make her squirt on my balmain shirt” - cassian finds out you can squirt

eris vanserra

ᜊ Professor Eris x reader: part 1, part 2, part 2,5, part 3 part 4 part 5 - you hook up with this delicious older man for one fun night to forget your scummy ex, what do you do when the same man turns out to be your new professor? What do you do when that same professor had a dark secret? - ONGOING

ᜊ Vanserra brothers NSFW Alphabet - nsfw, crack, a sprinkle of angst

feyre archeron

ᜊ “let’s settle this catfight in the ring, let’s settle this in bed” - enemies to lovers, smut, angst, jealousy

elain archeron

soon

lucien vanserra

ᜊ Vanserra brothers NSFW Alphabet - nsfw, crack, a sprinkle of angst

acotar men x reader

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sneaking out to a bar while you’re drunk - smau, multi men, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, using doe eyes on them - nsfw, multi men, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, putting bows on their things - headcanons, multi men, cute asf

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, you being asexual - smau, multi men, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sassy man apocalypse - smau, multi men, crack

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, being their sneaky link - multi men, nsfw, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, banning them from intimacy - multi men, nsfw, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, meeting your parents - multi men, headcanons, crack, fluff

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, your child catches you in the act - multi men, headcanons, crack, nsfw

multi characters

ᜊ Breaking up with the acotar characters as a prank - smau, multi

ᜊ Texting “ She’s busy “ as a prank with the acotar characters - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, ” I had a really fun time yesterday. Oops wrong person ” - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, creepy man hitting on drunk reader - smau, multi, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, we need to talk - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, sending them nudes/lingerie pics - smau, multi, nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, asking them for hand pics - smau, multi, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, “can i get x’s number?” - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, doing elf on the shelf for your kids - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, random texts - smau, nsfw, multi

ᜊ nsfw visual links for them - multi, smut, nsfw,

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, “where’s my treat?” - multi, nsfw-ish

ᜊ ACOTAR characters using twitter; pt 1 | pt 2 - nsfw, swearing

throne of glass

multi:

ᜊ TOG characters x reader, sending them lingerie pics - smau, multi, suggestiveness

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epochofbelief · 3 months

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Strictly Confidential: Chapter Five

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long everyone. Life is... insane. But it's spring break, so I finally had the time and energy to devote to this. It's kind of long, so fair warning ;) Also, I did just spend four straight hours writing and editing this so if there are typos… there are typos💓

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My Other (Completed) Feysand AU Fic: What to Expect When You're (Not) Expecting

Chapter Five:

A week after Feyre told Azriel she would turn informant against her partner, she still hadn't heard from the FBI.

And her week only grew worse with every passing day. Her professors had hit the mid-semester stride, assigning longer and longer readings. She continued to receive invitations to networking events and all manner of schmoozing and boozing opportunities from her future firm. Various midterm writing assignments were ramping up, and she had just finished a particularly brutal round of citation checks for the Law Review legal journal on which she was a staff editor.

Her only saving grace had been Tamlin’s obvious exhaustion. He left the apartment before Feyre woke up and returned long after she fell asleep.

If it had been any other way, Feyre wasn’t sure how she would have survived the week. The thought of Tamlin touching her sent shivers down her spine and images of what Rhys’s younger sister might look like spinning through her head. Did Tamlin know about what had been done to keep his secret? How involved was he in the more violent aspects of his criminal enterprise?

The questions were endless, and yet Feyre had no one to ask. She was supposed to be the one finding answers, anyway.

And while she desired to put a stop to Tamlin's crimes, she couldn't help but find it ironic that this was just one more thing that had come to rest on her shoulders.

And the FBI didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry, Feyre thought irritably as she waved Tamlin out the door on Thursday night. He had come home early to pack a bag—once again leaving town for the weekend. On business.

Feyre let him press a kiss to his cheek, then shut the door on his back, doing her best not to slam it.

She turned and leaned against the wood, scrubbing her face with her hands. If the FBI didn’t tell her what to do soon, she would forget about the deal and break up with Tamlin. Move back in with her family. It would mean adding a job to her academic workload, but she didn’t think she would survive more than a few months in her family’s house. Nesta would freeze her out until she needed something. Elain's perpetually present boyfriend disliked Feyre for some reason. Her father wouldn’t know what to do with her.

Feyre sighed, then jumped as a knock on the door behind her head reverberated through her skull.

“Did you forget something?” She asked, flinging open the door, expecting to find a harried-looking Tamlin on the other side.

Instead, she came face-to-face with Rhysand, a stunning blonde woman next to him.

“Oh,” Feyre squeaked.

Rhysand grimaced at her, dressed once again in all-black suit, tailored perfectly to his muscular body. Though he looked more casual than Feyre had ever seen him—his usual black tie was missing, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Feyre swallowed, averting her eyes from his tanned upper chest and violet eyes, instead surveying the blonde.

The woman was also clad in all-black, her blazer buttoned around a narrow waist, a short pencil skirt emphasizing long, tanned legs. Her blonde hair cascaded over both shoulders, and her lips, coated in a bright red lipstick, tugged into a smile.

Perhaps this was Rhys’s partner? Feyre’s eyes snapped back to Rhys’s at the thought, as if she would find the answer there.

“As much as I would love to stand here and watch you two stare at each other, the hall is a little exposed. May we come in, Feyre?” The blonde asked, brushing past Feyre without waiting for an answer, disappearing into the apartment behind her.

“You came,” Feyre breathed.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry it took so long.”

“Would you two get the hell in here?” The woman’s voice sounded from behind Feyre.

Rhys grimaced again, gesturing for Feyre to lead the way into the apartment. “Please excuse my cousin, Morrigan Underwood. She’s one of the best the FBI has to offer, but most days she’s just a pain in my…” Rhys trailed off, and Feyre couldn’t help but grin as Morrigan extended a manicured hand toward her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Feyre,” Morrigan said, smiling warmly down at her. Morrigan was tall, and the heels only added to her height. Next to the beautiful FBI agent, Feyre felt short and grubby in her socked feet next and oversized t-shirt. “Sorry to barge in on you. We got lucky tonight—video cameras are down. So we thought we would come to you.”

“Just luck?” Feyre asked, folding her arms and leaning against the kitchen island.

Morrigan and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Luck with a little help from Azriel,” Morrigan admitted, shrugging.

Gods, they really were the FBI, Feyre thought, walking around the kitchen island and opening the fridge. “Can I offer either of you—a water? Or something else?”

“We don’t want to trouble you,” Rhys said, at exactly the same moment Morrigan said, “Absolutely. Tamlin took forever to leave, and even though someone knew there would be a stake-out, he didn't think to stock refreshments in his car.” Her brown eyes cut to Rhys.

“Mor,” Rhys groaned.

Feyre smiled to herself as she retrieved three bottles of sparkling water from the fridge and returned to the living room, sitting in the armchair across from the couch where Rhys and Mor had seated themselves.

“Nice place,” Mor commented, her eyes scanning the room appreciatively. “Very . . . minimalist.”

Feyre shrugged. “It’s not exactly to my tastes, but thank you.”

Feyre ignored Mor’s cocked eyebrow and the crease that formed between Rhys’s eyebrows at her words. She cleared her throat. “So. Care to share why you’re here?”

Mor popped the top off her water and sank back into the plush white couch, lifting the drink toward Rhys. “You’re up, cousin.”

Rhys leaned forward on the couch, his own water forgotten on the sleek coffee table in front of him. Feyre couldn’t figure out where to look as she waited for him to speak. His large hands, clasped in front of him. The sliver of exposed skin just below his neck. Those violet eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul.

She settled for his forehead as Rhys began to speak. “You took a risk last week, going into Spring Solutions without backup. If something had happened to you in there, we would have had no way of knowing.”

Feyre folded her arms. “I thought you wanted me to gather information for you. How am I supposed to do that if I can’t go anywhere without an escort?”

“Backup doesn’t necessarily mean an escort.”

-----

Two hours later, Feyre’s mind was about to explode with all the information Rhys and Mor had drilled into her head. They had provided her with a wire, an earpiece that she could hear and speak to them through, an exhaustive explanation of how dangerous being an informant was, and a briefing on proper reporting and contacting methods she would have to engage in when reaching out to the FBI.

She drew the line at the bulletproof vest Mor retrieved from her bag.

“Where am I supposed to hide that?” Feyre demanded. “The tech is enough.”

Mor and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Feyre…” Rhys trailed off, his eyes searching her face.

“You make me take that and this whole thing is over before it began.”

Rhys held up his hands. “Alright. But if you dream up any more ridiculous plans to go into the heart of enemy territory, you contact us first. We’ll get it to you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. She didn’t envision herself getting shot any time soon.

“Lastly,” Mor said. “Here’s the address of our future meeting place.” She handed Feyre a scrap of paper. “Memorize it and then destroy it. You can get there by train, so transport isn’t a problem. You’ll have to switch trains about halfway there, but that’s your opportunity to determine if you’re being followed. If you have any suspicion whatsoever that someone is on your tail, do not go to the safe house. Just board a train back in the direction of the city.”

Feyre looked down at the address. “How often will we be meeting?”

“Only as often as necessary. You let us know through that earpiece and we’ll arrange it. Best not to create any new strange habits that people might notice. Memorize.”

Feyre nodded, swallowing the sudden wave of anxiety cresting through her. She was truly doing this. Working for the FBI. Attempting to inifiltrate a strange and possibly deadly organization. Betraying her boyfriend—the man who had fed her and housed her for the better part of her law school experience.

Mor cleared her throat, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got a meeting. Finish up here, Rhys?”

Rhys nodded, clapping his cousin on the shoulder as she stood, extending her hand once more to Feyre. “Good luck, Feyre. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again very soon.” Feyre nodded, and Mor paused, her manicured hand squeezing Feyre’s. “Do try not to get caught.”

Then she was gone.

Leaving Feyre and Rhysand alone in the enormous, stark apartment.

“Is there much more?” Feyre asked, forcing herself to keep her arms at her sides rather than swinging them in the awkward silence.

“No, but—” Rhys halted midsentence as Feyre slumped into the enormous white armchair next to the window, relieved to hear those words coming from Rhys’s mouth. She honestly hadn’t been sure if she could take much more.

Her entire relationship was a lie—everything was a lie. She had trusted Tamlin with her safety. With her nights and days and most of the time in between. He had given her a place to stay after years spent under her family’s influence.

And yet.

“He’s been lying to me,” Feyre muttered, more to herself than Rhysand, who had leaned closer to her as her thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper. “This whole time.”

Her eyes drifted down from the ceiling, locking instead with Rhys’s blue eyes, drinking her in from his position on the couch.

“I never knew,” she said softly. “I never even suspected. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

A muscle fluttered in Rhys’s jaw, and he shook his head, one hand extending toward her as if to rest it on her knee. But he thought better of it, instead clasping his hands between his knees. “On the contrary. I’ve spent a year investigating Tamlin and he's slipped through my fingers every time. It’s no surprise you never knew."

Feyre bent over her knees, hands covering her face. “How long will it take?”

Rhys cleared his throat, thankfully understanding her meaning. “It depends. The more and better information we get, the easier it will be to charge him.”

When Feyre didn’t respond, Rhys continued.

“But if you want out, Feyre, say the word. We—I—would never dream of forcing you to stay in this relationship just for our purposes. There would be no hard feelings if you changed your mind.”

Feyre’s hands slid from her face, and she returned Rhys’s stare with one of her own. “No.”

“No?”

“I want to do this. I have to do this. If what you say is true, Tamlin is the reason your sister—and who knows how many others who knew too much—are gone. I can’t stand by and watch that happen. Can’t leave him knowing about the horrible things he is causing, or at least sanctioning.”

She could have sworn a glimmer of pride shone in Rhys’s eyes as he surveyed her. And despite everything, despite the loss of his sister and the investigation and the potential threat to Feyre’s life, he smiled.

“Then let’s bring that bastard down.”

Feyre couldn’t resist the grin she shot back.

-----

A week later, some of that excitement had died down. Tamlin had been at work around the clock, busy with various “projects” as he described them to Feyre. However, he had revealed that his next out-of-town venture would take place in late October—just a few weeks away. And Feyre was determined to discover the destination. So in addition to her studies and checking in every so often with the FBI through her earpiece, she spent the wee hours of the morning combing through Tamlin's computer in secret, digging through his bags and looking through his phone for anything that might reveal his future plans.

She continued to come up empty-handed.

But she didn't intend to give up, even though her exhaustion grew worse with every passing day. Feyre resolved to take a break from her sleuthing that night as she walked to another networking event, this one just a few blocks from her apartment.

She arrived in her best black suit, pencil skirt just brushing the tops of her knees, black tights beneath warding off the crisp fall air. She had spent extra time on her hair that evening—adding a little extra dry shampoo, teasing the golden-brown strands into a gentle curl at the ends. She even went so far as to add an extra layer of mascara before she came to her senses.

There was only one reason Feyre was putting in this extra effort, despite the minuscule chance that the reason would even be present at the mixer.

United States Attorneys surely had better things to do than attend every attorney/law-student networking event in the city.

And besides. Feyre was still unavailable, even if Tamlin had barely laid a finger on her the past few weeks, as busy and stressed with work as they both had been. Even if in her mind, her relationship with Tamlin had long since come to a crashing halt.

So she had resisted the urge to dab on some blush before she rushed out the door, tying her black overcoat around her waist as she rode the elevator to the lobby. Just a half hour later, she found herself engaged in a spectacularly dull conversation with a pair of junior associates from one of the other firms in Prythian. Feyre had forgotten their names almost as soon as she had heard them, distracted as she was with thoughts of her mission for Rhys—with thoughts of whether Rhys might be present tonight.

“Do you have plans to pursue partnership?” One of the attorneys—a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and brown eyes—inquired, taking another sip of her mixed drink. The woman was tipsy, but quite adept at hiding it. If Feyre hadn’t spent years observing her older sister Nesta’s drinking habits, she might not have noticed.

Unfortunately, the woman was staring at Feyre so intently that Feyre decided she would be forced to answer the question. Feyre’s mind raced, and she genuinely wondered whether saying, “I don’t know—nor do I much care at this point,” might be disadvantageous to her career. If it might get back to Hybern & Night.

But then she felt a hand at her elbow, a warm male body sidling up next to her, the scent of citrus and the sea washing over her in a wave.

“Feyre, darling. You’ve been avoiding me. My father insisted I meet his firm’s future associate.”

Feyre bit back her smile as she turned her attention from the attorneys in front of her to the man who had just stepped up to her elbow. Blue-black hair slightly tousled, as if he had just run his fingers through it. Violet eyes dancing with mirth. Black-on-black suit only emphasizing his imposing figure.

“I didn’t realize we were engaged in a game of hide-and-seek,” Feyre said. “Will you excuse me, ladies? It was wonderful to meet you both.”

And she allowed Rhys to whisk her away, through the crowded ballroom where the event was being held and up a set of stairs, where he pulled her out to a small balcony overlooking one of Prythian’s many parks to the rear of the building.

“That’s twice now,” Rhys noted, releasing Feyre’s elbow only when she leaned against the railing, her own elbows resting against the cool metal.

“Twice what?”

“That I’ve saved you from the vultures. However will you repay me?” Rhys asked, leaning onto the railing next to her.

“I’ll think of something,” Feyre said quietly, raising her eybrows.

“How are you holding up?” Rhys asked.

Feyre blinked. She had expected him to press her for details on Tamlin’s movements, or perhaps encourage her to try just a little harder to get him something, anything he could use to find justice for his little sister.

“I’m—fine,” she said haltingly. “Tamlin has another trip in two weeks, but you already know that. He’s…resistant to the idea of me hanging around Spring Solutions. Keeps insisting it’s going to interfere with my studies.”

Rhys sighed, shifting on his feet. Feyre tried to ignore how the motion brought his arm closer to hers, so close she could feel the heat of his body soaking into hers. “He may be an insufferable bastard, but the man is cautious.”

Feyre tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her wince at the words “insufferable bastard.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said, once again surprising Feyre at how adeptly he said the right thing, how flawlessly he interpreted her mannerisms and expressions. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

But Feyre shook her head. “You have every right, Rhysand. After what he did to your sister…”

Rhys let out a long sigh. Feyre echoed him a moment later.

"You called them vultures," Feyre said after several silent moments passed.

"And?"

"Why did you become an attorney if—if you find most of those people in there as abhorrent as I do?"

Rhys shrugged, the movement causing his shoulder to brush against Feyre's. "I come from a very long line of attorneys. In a way, it was the only future I ever really considered for myself. Even though I hated the way my father's work kept him so busy, how he constantly chose his billable hours over his family. I knew he never had any passion for the law he practiced. He merely craved the money, and the prestige, and the reputation."

Feyre turned to observe Rhys, studying the side of his face as he gazed out over the park.

"But I think watching all that made me want to be a different kind of attorney. Someone who cares about the people I'm representing, the cases I'm bringing. And a career as a prosecutor seemed like a good place to start—at least for now.” Rhys paused, as if weighing whether to say what he said next. “I'm not sure if it's made me any better than my father."

"For what it's worth, Rhys, I don't consider you a vulture."

Rhys met her eyes then, his face so open, so vulnerable, for one brief moment. "Likewise," he said quietly.

Feyre grimaced, choosing not to argue with him. Even though she was the one chasing the money that came with a big law job. Even though everything Rhys had said could very well describe her situation exactly.

“You want to get out of here?” Rhys said suddenly.

Feyre turned to look at him. “And do… what?”

“Take a walk. Grab a drink. Do anything other than talk to those insufferable sycophants prowling around that ballroom.”

Feyre swallowed, and before she could talk herself out of it, she heard herself saying, “Let’s go.”

An hour later, Feyre was two glasses of wine deep, laughing at something Rhys said to the strangers they had befriended at the bar a few blocks from the networking event. She hadn't had this much fun in—in a very long time. She couldn't remember the last time she went out with her friends on a whim, talking about everything and nothing, without discussing law school or work or anything serious.

But Rhys was fun. And Feyre was enjoying herself immensely. She even felt a little sad when Rhys paid the tab over her protests, insisting that he remembered all too well the weight of law school loans, before he ushered her out of the bar.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said as they emerged into the dark streets of Prythian.

“You don’t have to do that,” Feyre said.

“It’s dark and we’re downtown.”

Feyre bit her lip, but nodded in assent, turning right to lead Rhys in the direction of her apartment. They made it all of five steps before Rhys's phone rang.

"Sorry," he mouthed at Feyre, answering the call and guiding her over to the edge of the sidewalk.

"Night speaking," he said quietly, leaning against the wall.

Feyre leaned next to him, grateful for the buzz of the alcohol keeping her warm and relaxed as she waited. Grateful that it kept her from thinking too hard about the fact that she had just gone out with drinks. With Rhysand. Alone.

But the languid peace coursing through Feyre's veins evaporated when Rhys stiffened next to her.

"Who is this?" Rhys bit out.

Feyre shivered at the ice in his tone.

"Tell me who you are," Rhys growled, even as he seized Feyre's elbow and tugged her down an alley to their right, pushing her against the wall and crowding close, as if he could shield her very existence from the world around them.

"Who is this?" Rhys demanded once more.

Who the hell was on the other end of that phone call?

"Fuck!" Rhys exclaimed, the phone going dark in his hand as whoever he had been speaking to hung up.

"Who was it?" Feyre whispered.

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell me."

"What did they say?"

Feyre felt the blood drain from her face as Rhys explained.

"We have to go," Feyre said, hands coming up to push at Rhys's chest.

"No. I have to get you home. I'm calling Cassian. He'll handle it." Rhys unlocked his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

Feyre gritted her teeth. "We're two blocks away. I'll be fine. Let's just go."

And before Rhys could argue, she took off down the alleyway, jaw set.

They made it to the alley in less than five minutes, Feyre skidding to a halt at its mouth. Rhys had just hung up with Cassian, whom he had told to meet them there as quickly as possible. Feyre made to plunge into the dark alley, but Rhys grabbed her arm, shaking his head. "Stay behind me," he insisted, moving in front of and stalking slowly down the alley.

They were halfway through the space when Feyre caught sight of what looked like a pile of rags or fabric slumped against the alley wall about twenty feet in front of them.

Only, they weren’t rags, Feyre realized, watching the dark lump on the alley floor shift as Rhys approached.

It was a person—a man—laying on his side, head facing away from them, legs tangled together.

Azriel.

Feyre dropped to her knees next to the agent, the two glasses of wine she had drank earlier now threatening to come up when she beheld the state Azriel was in.

Two black eyes were already forming, his eyes so swollen they were mere slits in his red, black and blue face. Dried blood crusted the skin under his nose and continued all the way down his chin.

Feyre rested an arm on Azriel's shoulder, praying the agent wasn't bruised there as well.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

To her surprise, the agent chuckled. “Believe me, Feyre,” he grunted, his raspy voice echoing slightly in the alley around them. “I’ve had worse.”

Feyre bit her lip as Rhys brushed a hand lightly over her shoulder before joining her on the ground before Azriel.

"How long?" Rhys asked.

"Half hour," Azriel rasped, a series of hacking coughs interrupting him before he could continue. "Maybe longer."

Feyre saw the shadow of rage that passed across Rhys's face as he realized how long Azriel’s attackers had waited to call him. But he didn't verbalize it, instead murmuring, “Let’s get you up, friend." He gripped Azriel’s shoulders and pulling him into a seated position. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the agent, allowing Feyre to more fully appreciate just how battered his face was.

“Gods,” Feyre breathed, following Rhys’s lead and ducking under one of Azriel’s arms.

“It was Spring,” Azriel said quietly, once they had managed to drag him halfway down the alley.

Feyre sensed, rather than saw, Rhys stiffen at the words.

“How do you know?” Feyre asked quietly.

Azriel coughed, spitting a wad of blood onto the alley floor in front of them. “They jumped me,” he said. “Took my gun, then a few of them held me down so they could take turns hitting me. I couldn’t do anything but let them—let them—” He broke off. “Then they dumped me and said they would send someone to retrieve me. I didn't know if that meant someone to finish the job, or help. The only other thing they said, the whole time, was right before one of them stomped on my head: 'Stay the hell away from Spring Solutions. Or else.' I was out cold after that. I think."

A chill ran down Feyre’s spine.

What did or else mean?

None of them spoke another word as Rhys guided them to the mouth of the alley, where a black car awaited. Rhys ripped open the door, revealing a tense-looking Mor in the backseat. She beckoned, taking Azriel from Rhys and Feyre.

Rhys got into the front seat, and Feyre climbed into the back with Az and Mor.

"Gods above," Mor breathed, surveying the damage done to Azriel's face. "What happened?"

Rhys explained as Cassian drove them quickly away from the alley, winding through the dark streets of downtown Prythian.

"Do you think they know?" Mor asked. "About Feyre?"

Rhys shook his head. "No. It was just a coincidence that she was with me at the time."

"They're getting more confident," Cassian noted, pulling his car to a stop in a darkened side street.

It took Feyre a moment to recognize where they were.

"I'll walk you to the building," Rhys said, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car.

“What?” Feyre demanded, mouth falling open as her eyes found Mor's. "I can't go up there knowing—knowing." She broke off, unable to finish her thought. How could she return to her apartment after people from Tamlin's company had just beat Azriel into a bloody pulp just to make a statement?

"Please, Feyre. We need to get Azriel medical care, and the longer you're with us, the greater the chance your cover is blown," Mor pleaded, one manicured hand brushing back Azriel's silky black hair.

"I want to help," Feyre said quietly as Rhys opened the car door next to her.

"You are helping. You already have helped," Rhys said, reaching inside the car to unbuckle Feyre's seat belt. "We need to keep you in a position where you can help."

Feyre swallowed, and let Rhys coax her from the car.

"I'll call you to let you know how he's doing," Mor offered as Rhys shut the door.

Rhys was quiet as he escorted Feyre to the side entrance of her building. "Use that earpiece as soon as you get upstairs. Let us know you go to your apartment safely. Okay?"

"And what if my cover is blown?" Feyre asked.

"If we don't hear from you in ten minutes, I'll come bursting into that apartment myself. They wouldn’t waste time on Azriel if they found out about you.”

Feyre repressed a shudder at the implication in those words: That if Tamlin’s people discovered her treachery, they would come straight for her rather than risk her retreating to the FBI before they could silence her.

Feyre gritted her teeth, lingering in the open doorway.

"Please, Feyre. We have to get Azriel help."

There were so many things Feyre wanted to say, things that the attack on Azriel now made impossible. Had it really been less than an hour since she and Rhys had sat in that bar, laughing and talking without a care in the world?

But Feyre said nothing, instead letting the glass door swing shut between her and Rhys. And since she knew Rhys wouldn't turn to leave until she did, Feyre trudged up the stairs, fighting the urge to turn back for a last glimpse of the attorney watching her.

Taglist: @rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @riribbonss @tunaababee @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

#acotar #feysand #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #acomaf #feyre archeron #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #feyre x rhys

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damedechance · 1 year

Text

» read on ao3 (1/4) » listen to playlist

Pairing: Feysand

Rating: E (gratuitous smut)

Summary: Feyre Archeron never considered herself to be particularly studious, but that all might have to change when she sets eyes on her new biology professor. Only, he looks strangely familiar. But it's just a coincidence. Isn't it?

read snippet below:

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

intro_to_biology_lec1.pptx

Feyre leaned over and tugged on Lucien’s sleeve. She hissed into his ear, “Who the fuck is that?”

He looked at her, one eyebrow lifted. “Our professor,” he whispered back, voice dripping with condescension.

“No shit,” Feyre said. She let go of his sleeve, and twisted back around in her seat so that she could watch as the professor walked across the stage and back towards the podium, where his bag rested on the floor.

He was their professor, sure, but he definitely wasn’t Professor Suriel. Feyre scrambled for the syllabus she had shoved aside earlier, mind so scrambled that it took her far longer to locate it than it should have. And once she finally did get her hands on it, the pages became crumpled and wrinkled beneath her grip.

She scanned the page, and found the name: Rhysand Sterling, PhD. Associate Professor.

She dropped the paper back down, eyes flicking between the text on the page in front of her and the man on the stage. He was still digging through his bag.

Feyre opened her tablet back up again, and started a blank project.

Beside her, Lucien snorted. “Now you’ll start taking notes?”

Feyre shushed him. “Shut up, I’m trying to pay attention.”

“He isn’t saying anything.” With a final shake of his head, Lucien went back to his laptop, where he had pulled up a window so that he could continue texting Elain while under the guise of taking notes. But who was she to judge? She was doing the same thing.

Instead of jotting down notes, Feyre began to sketch his hands.

The professor muttered from the front of the room, “Hang on, class. It’s here somewhere.”

Something touched the corner of her lip, and Feyre flinched, pulling herself away from Lucien. His hand was still outstretched, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

“What are you doing?” she growled.

“You were drooling,” he said simply, shrugging. He put his hand back down.

“I was not,” Feyre returned indignantly.

“I’ve been looking for…” Professor Sterling trailed off. Clearly, he was preoccupied.

“Definitely were,” Lucien said with a grin.

Feyre shoved him. “Ass–”

“You.”

The professor’s voice was sharper, now. Loud, as he projected it across the lecture hall, and Feyre’s eyes immediately shot up to find that her worst fears were true.

That piercing gaze was focused entirely on her.

#feysand #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #smut #feysand smut

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beansidhebumbling · 7 months

Note

Wait I have another one:

Ship of your choice but Person A accidentally seals the mate bond with Person B after doing body shots and sucking a lime out of their mouth. 🙂

The Chemistry of Regret

Okay I had to do college AU Rhysta for this. Hope you like!! This got out of control.

Also the first hands then voice structure is inspired by a line in the fabulous @bittermuire's The Cape which you can read here. Read it!!

Nesta knows of Rhysand Velaris long before she ever has the dubious pleasure of making his acquaintance.

He haunts the Biochemistry department like a spectre.

His overly styled hair gleaming even in the faded newspaper clipping framed outside Professor Wysten's lab.

His black eyes sparkling in picture after picture on the college's socials. Medals and grants and awards the only weight that anchors the Prince of Oíchad College.

The golden boy of the hallowed halls, gone but not forgotten.

And Nesta, living the cruel life of a fresh PhD student grows to hate that curving smirk of a stranger, his sloping signature on the near-empty bottle of Trypan Blue that Wysten refuses to bin, his crisp embroidered lab coat that lies draped over a chair in the dry lab awaiting the return of its owner.

***

Imitator, the dye taunts each time she stains her cells watching blue seep into their crevices, a damning marker of death.

Imposter, the message Wysten imparts in every gushing compliment he in his absence is bestowed that she in her unfailing presence is never good enough to earn.

Lesser, a voice, that must be his, whispers in her ear as she lies awake and wonders if life should feel easier than this.

***

His return from his year in Paris is anticipated like a public holiday. Outfits planned between centrifuge spins, tables booked at his favourite club.

The days are counted down in blood red Xs on the calendar in the study room and when D-day arrives the entire department leaves in a flurry into the cool chill of a January night.

The building is empty, only she and security remains.

Nesta is eager to take advantage of the free slots on the flow cytometer, normally booked until the wee hours. As the sequins on her dress dance like stars and the machine whirs quietly in the background, she runs her cells and finds solace in solitude.

But her cells are soon studied, peace is temporary and then she's queuing on Court Street to enter the Night Palace.

She can feel the bass in her bones as she enters, the dim lighting making the whirling mass of bodies on the dance floor look like art.

***

She has a plan, stay for a drink, long enough to be seen by the tenured professors, long enough to look like she belongs, long enough that she'll be able to nod and smile at the lunch-time conversation.

Not so long that the loneliness erodes her from the inside out, corroding through tissue and bone.

That is the plan.

But then Gwyn, the pretty lab assistant has Sambuca and Emerie has rum and the strobe lights start looking closer to shooting stars.

With alcohol loosed limbs she remembers how much she likes to dance, how the pain of being seen has never stung when there is a rhythm to movement.

So between shots she moves until she gets lost in the art of writhing bodies.

***

She is on the dance floor, hair loose and glitter trailing from her eyes like tears when she meets him.

First, he is large veined hands tentatively touching her waist, awaiting further permission.

She is Nesta Archeron, made of Sambuca and starlight, so she grinds back onto the stranger, the tall stranger she amends as his body presses against her back.

Then he is voice, rich and smooth, as his lips touch her ear lobe, his clipped accent conjuring schooldays at Eton and summers on yachts.

'You're very beautiful.'

The words hit her like sleet in summer.

How...boring.

She is unimpressed and turns to tell him as such.

She is shocked when finally he is no longer solely hands nor voice but Rhysand Velaris in all his tangible glory.

'You!'

She shouts, struggling to be heard over the pounding music, attempting to create a cavern between them even as the crowd presses in from all sides.

'Me.'

His cocky smile turns into a grimace as he reads the disappointment in her expression.

She does not stay long enough to introduce herself.

Sobriety looms too close for that.

She disappears in the grinding groping bodies until his voice melds with the rising melody.

***

He finds her at the bar.

Of course he does. His ghost has been haunting her for the better part of a year why wouldn't his corporeal form do the same.

'Rhysand Velaris.'

His hand, previously branding its heat on the soft wide curve of her waist, is now outstretched and open.

She extends hers, grasping firmly.

'Nesta Archeron.'

Her smile is a tight thin mimicry of what it should be.

His strong brow raises and his eyes widen.

'You're Nesta Archeron, the new PhD?'

She dips her head ignoring the question, too focused now on arranging her cleavage to attract the bartender.

Rhysand's eyes stay fixed to her face, as she successfully obtains her Tequila shots.

'I've been looking forward to meeting my new lab buddy who has booked every afternoon slot in the wet lab for the next month.'

She feels a grin tug at her lips at his pointed tone.

'You snooze you lose, Velaris.'

And in an impulse she wished she could blame on the undrunk shots before her she snipes,

'If it's a problem get Daddy to build us a new lab.'

His laugh is unexpected and far too enchanting for a handsome face. Because he is handsome, Mother damn him.

'Would you like me then? Because I'm very motivated for you to like me Nesta Archeron.'

He caresses the syllables of her name, his teeth clicking on the t and lingering like he wants to hold the letters a beat too long.

'Why? Because I'm beautiful.'

She scoffs.

His posture stiffens.

'No. Because you're brilliant. From what I've read, from what I've heard.'

A pause.

'Of course, you being beautiful is a welcome addition. Not as beautiful as me though.'

A giggle escapes her because he is ridiculous. This is ridiculous. He isn't allowed to be charming, not when she has decided to hate him.

***

'Let's do shots.'

She gestures clumsily to the glasses almost knocking them in the process.

And because she's lost her mind, for that must be the only reason, she grasps his inner forearm licking the tanned skin, letting her tongue drag lightly along, following a vein towards his elbow, ignoring the electricity that sparks through her body as she does.

He is tense, eyes pools of darkness she could drown in, the leather and chocolate of his cologne muddling her brain.

She salts his arm pushing the slice of lime his way. He obediently inserts it into his mouth, moving like a man dazed, eyes transfixed on her lips.

Like a film reel she sees the next three years play in her head if she carries on with this insanity, awkwardness and avoidance abound.

So why is she compelled to continue this mistake?

***

You'll regret this.

Her brain screams as the Tequila slides a burning fire down her throat.

You'll regret this.

It pleads as she kisses the white crystals from soft skin of his arm, nipping slightly so he moans her name in a way she definitely cannot linger on.

You'll regret this.

It begs as their lips meet in a citrus clash that sets fireworks off behind her eyes. He breaks momentarily to spit out the wedge of lime before returning to capture her lips, kissing her like lonely women dream of, hot and expert and claiming.

***

When she opens her eyes to meet a panting Rhysand, those hands still clutching her like she might mean salvation from an unknown damnation, dark hair tousled from her fingers grasping and tugging mere seconds before.

When he touches his ribs before looking in awe at her, like she is more than her frame can contain.

When he says her name like a prayer, like a curse, and she feels the golden links tying them together in a way science can only vaguely explain, she finds their damnation.

And she knows.

She'll regret this.

#rhysta #nesta #rhysand #college au #acotar #gemwrites #so glad im not in the labs anymore

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dwkfan · 3 months

Text

OKAY OKAY OMGGGG. So far fourth wing is being so good but bitch?!

Xaden has the audacity of leaving violets in violets room after banging her so good her power burned her curtains, destroyed her chair and training buddy and low key reminded me of rhysand and feyre fucking and asked her not to fall in love?! 😟

S-sir 🤨 be for real right now.

Also poor professor, who’s gonna tell him she wasn’t sleeping when those powers activated?

Anyways here’s a few lines I liked

#books & libraries #fourth wing #violet sorrengail #violet and xaden #xaden riorson #good soup

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rodricksfilipinagf · 6 months

Text

Academia AU Pt. 2 (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

CW: Baking, Smut

Why, why did I agree to bake with Eris? I should have insisted I’d do it all by myself. Not that he would let me. He was as eager to prove his commitment and devotion to the English department as I was. Which meant agreeing to bake for its annual ball.

I don’t know how I was expecting Eris to live. Rich, definitely because of his wealthy father. The quintessential overstuffed bookshelves that an English professor would have. But when I get to his apartment, I’m proven right. Sure, there’s a crackling fireplace, tons of wooden bookshelves overstuffed with books (only classic literature, naturally.) There’s also cold, sterile vibes in the kitchen, with its enormous refrigerator and marble white island stocked with baking ingredients. What I wasn’t expecting were two smiling, friendly…

“Greyhounds?” I ask.

He sighs. “Y/N, meet Ben and Bea. They’re my pride and joy, and to my dismay, they seem to like you.” He hands me a bowl of dog treats. “Here, do you want to feed them?”

“Sure,” I say, and put a dog treat on my hand for Ben to eat. He gobbles it from my hand easily, and Bea instantly whines, wanting her turn. She puts her paws on my thighs and starts licking my hand. “Okay, okay.” I reach into the bowl and take out a dog treat. Bea swallows it and gives me lots of tail wags. “I didn’t know you liked dogs,” I say as I kneel down and give Bea scritches behind the ears. Ben, not to be forgotten about, licks my face until I relent and pet him too.

“What pet would you have attributed to me?” he asks, looking as if he’s fighting off a smile. Is it possible he’s…happy at the sight of me bonding with his dogs.

“I don’t know. A snake, maybe?” After I say this, Ben barks numerous times as if to agree.

This time, Eris can’t help but laugh. “Why?” A mischievous look enters his eye. “Might it be because you think I have a long-“

“You talk this way in front of your dogs?” I shake my head. “Shame on you, Eris Vanserra. You’re not being a very good dog dad.”

His face blanches, despite his jovial mood seconds earlier. “Shall we start baking?”

“Um…okay,” I say, reluctant to stop playing with his dogs.

“Go in the living room. Go, go,” he says to the dogs, and they obediently go and settle onto their dog beds.

“Their beds are in the living room?” I ask, washing my hands.

“They have two each, one in the living room, and one in my bedroom. Through they don’t like use the bedroom ones. They’d rather take up too much space on my bed.”

“Aww,” I say involuntarily. The thought of Eris being squished by his enormous dogs in bed sounded almost…cute. I dry my hands with a paper towel, determined to flush those thoughts out of my head. Eris Vanserra was not cute. He was a pain in my backside. Speaking of which…

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to do brownies. From a box. The easy way, right?”

My nostrils flare. “You just had to ruin it by being infuriating.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Ruin what?”

I let out a sigh. “You being a decent human being.”

I start kneading the dough. “You know my last class actually went well. My guest lecturer was superb.”

Eris’s fist tightened around the rolling pin. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Rhysand really engaged the kids.”

He snorts. “The fact that you call them kids says it all. They’re young adults. And should be treated like so. You’re not even presenting them with anything challenging.”

“Oh, like you would know,” I fire back.

“So what makes Rhysand so special?” he skewers, using the rolling pin to flatten the dough.

“Well, like I said. He knows what the students want. First he did a reading of his latest romance novel, then he did a Q and A for whatever questions the students had, and then he led them in a writing workshop to see what they could do.”

“I bet he did,” mutters Eris.

“The students loved him, which is more than I can say for you,” I say, laying out the chocolate chips.

“So I decided to do what you said and I picked up a romance book. His romance book.”

I laugh. “Let me guess. You hated it.”

“How could I not? It was dull and derivative.”

“How dare you call it dull?” It was one of my favorite recent romance novels.

“You mean have an opinion? Is this what you’re like in the classroom?” He continues, “It was riddled with cliches and went by them motion to motion, as if it were a paint by numbers. That should be something you’re familiar with.”

“You are so annoying!” I explode.

He snorts. “As if you’re not? Everything you say I want to shut you up.”

“Well, too bad for you.” I flare my nostrils and glare at him.

He narrows his eyes. “You know what?” He takes a fistful of flour and releases it into my hair.

My face burns with rage.

He snickers. “This is a good look for you, bunny.”

“Ughhh, you are such a child,” I stew.

“Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow.

My eyes go to the vanilla extract and his eyes follow mine. His hand is faster than mine and before I know it, he trickles vanilla extract down my cleavage.

My blood is boiling by now. “Fuck you.”

Eris smirks. “If you say so, bunny.”

His lips crash into mine and I feel his fingers grip my ass and squeeze it as he lifts me onto the kitchen island. I pant heavily as he tears off my shirt and undoes my bra, tossing it away. I unbutton my pants and kick them off as he does the same to his pants and boxers.

He fingers the edge of my panties. “If I were to remove these, would I find you wet for me?”

“Fuck no,” I spit out.

Eris clicks his tongue. “You know I punish liars, right, Y/N?”

I grow wetter and wetter as he talks, and as he strokes outside my panties, I’m convinced he feels it.

“Mmm. Let’s see,” he says as he whips them off. He circles my very, very wet entrance with his finger. “Looks like someone’s been a bad girl. And you know what happens to bad girls.”

He cleans up my sopping wet pussy with his tongue, teasing very close to my clit but not quite reaching it.

He tops me on the kitchen island and starts covering the underside of my breasts with slow licks. My nipples are hard by now, which is exactly what he wants.

Eris examines my stiffening nipples with ravenous eyes. “Bunny, are these for me?” He gives me a wicked grin. “You shouldn’t have.” He takes a nipple into his mouth, giving it tantalizing licks before biting it hard.

I blush as I grow even wetter.

He smirks. “You like that, bunny?” He eases his dick inside me and starts thrusting into me.

I let out a moan.

“You looks so hot under me,” he tells me. “I like you a lot better this way.” He starts pounding into me harder and harder.

He starts circling my clit with the tip of his dick, and I let out an excruciating moan.

“Want to finish, bunny?” he asks. “Admit you’re attracted to me.”

I hesitate.

“I already licked your pussy. Your feelings for me are pretty obvious. I just want to hear you say it.” He smiles evilly at me. “Anytime now, bunny.”

“Fine,” I breathe out. “I’m attracted to you, you asshole.”

“That’s more like it,” he says before he plunges his dick into my clit. I let out an earthshattering scream as Eris loudly groans.

“Did you finish?” I ask.

A sinister look enters his eyes. “Not quite,” Eris replies as he takes his hand and closes it around his dick, spraying my face with what remained.

He snickers. “Thanks for admitting you’re attracted to me.” What a dick.

Eris lets me clean up in his bathroom, claiming haughtily that we’d better get some work done with our baking if we didn’t want to waste the evening.

As I cleaned up my face, I wondered if this was something Eris wanted to do for a while or only did during the spur of the moment. Either way, it was hot. I was sort of ashamed to admit it, given he’d treated me like absolute trash. But I hated to admit that he did also satisfy me sexually.

When I opened the bathroom door and saw him there, I couldn’t help but blush, thinking about how he made me feel.

“Are you done?” he asks tersely.

“Um, yeah,” I say, stepping outside.

“Good,” he replies, stepping into the bathroom.

I make my way back to the kitchen, wondering what was up with him. It was understandable that he wanted this to be a one-time thing but now he wasn’t acting like himself.

In fact- I swallow- he acted most like himself when we were fucking. What happened? I start sprinkling chocolate chips into the dough. Not that I want him to do it again- he was a repugnant asshole…but also the sexiest man I’ve ever been with.

I almost didn’t hear him come in. “So Y/N…” I hear him say, but then my phone rings.

“Hang on,” I tell him. I dig out my phone from my purse. “Hello?”

“Hello, darling,” Rhysand’s voice purrs. “How is your gorgeous self?”

“Oh.” I blush, and Eris’ eyes narrow. “Great, Rhysand, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to know if…guest lecturers such as myself were welcome at the English Department Charity Ball this Friday night. I wanted to check before leaving town completely.”

“Oh. Yeah, Rhysand, you can absolutely come.”

Eris was positively glowering at this point.

“Fantastic. Would it be too forward of me to ask you to be my date?”

“Your date?” I repeat. I glance at Eris, who just looked at me blankly. “It’s not really a date…event. Thank you for asking, though.”

“Of course, darling. I’ll see you there.”

Eris deigned to say, “Rhysand” after I hung up the phone. “He asked you out?”

“Yes,” I say. Just because he fucked just now didn’t mean that he owned me. “So?”

He shrugs. “I don’t care.”

I let out an incredulous breath. “What, were you going to ask me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Why would I? Go with perfect Rhysand, who enthralled all your students.”

“Wait,” I say.

“No, I wasn’t going to ask you,” he said, bunching up the cookie dough into little balls. “Why would I? I despise you.”

“I- I despise you too,” I say. “Us fucking was a one-time thing.”

He gives me a cruel smile. “Do you want it to be a one-time thing? I may hate you, but I don’t hate fucking you,” he assures me.

My heart lifts in spite of itself. “Fine.” I don’t want to seem too eager.

He nods. “Fine. Should we get back to baking?”

“Yeah,” I say. So he wants to fuck me, but he doesn’t want to date me. That’s fine. That’s perfectly fine. Maybe I should give Rhysand a chance…

#eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic

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lyssasdrafts · 15 days

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★ 𓈒 ݁ STAR—CROSSED (rhysand x reader) ⊹

chapter one: (smau/written) ✧

𓈒 ݁ ✫ masterlist previous next

“how long does it take for stars to form?”

the question echoed through the half-empty lecture hall. most students didn’t bother showing up to lessons that were so early in the morning, while the few who did attend were about to fall asleep on their desks. you realized that you were probably the only other person engaged in your professor’s lesson. the one other student being rhysand.

your gaze met rhysand’s as he raised his arm up before you could, and you fought the urge to grit your teeth at him. it was an easy question that you already knew the answer to, he should just let you have this. you hadn’t reached this unit in your astrophysics course yet, only you had taken it upon yourself to read ahead. rhysand probably wouldn’t go as far as you, he’s far too busy being prythian’s poster student, and so he clearly just wanted the attention from participating.

“they can form within a human lifespan,” rhysand grinned at you. there was a hint of flirtation in his violet eyes, the way they shined underneath the morning light escaping your lecture hall’s windows. the stare he’s probably given lots of other people on campus, you remind yourself that this isn’t special. everytime you walk past an advertisement with his face or you see a post from his fans online, it’s that same look that makes you want to avoid it at all costs. for once, you smile back at him. not to be polite, but because you want to hold back your laugh from how wrong he is.

you even notice how your lecturer was about to cringe. you take this opportunity and raise your hand too, glancing at rhysand as you were called on.

“they can take about ten million years,” you say loudly. your smile has grown into a smirk as rhysand suddenly blanks out, realizing he was completely off. your professor nods in acceptance, approving your answer. “unless you’re saying that humans can live that long, then you’re mistaken,” you turn back to rhysand.

you expect your professor to make a comment about being respectful and how that last part of your answer was unnecessary. but she doesn’t, so you continue with your head held high for the rest of the lecture. rhysand keeps trying to answer the following questions, leading to a back-and-forth between the two of you. you held back showing off your satisfaction whenever you got something right instead of rhysand, which was more often than not.

astrophysics was a topic that had always interested you, which is why you had decided to major in this subject. you loved learning about the stars and constellations and the sky. you had always went above and beyond to study and learn the subject material for your classes, you weren’t prythian’s top student for nothing.

“does anyone but rhysand and y/n want to answer?” your professor said finally.

it was met with silence. you raised an eyebrow and turned to rhysand, who simply shrugged at you and picked the lint off his shoulder. you couldn’t help but notice the way he parted his hair and how well it suited his facial features. of course, you wouldn’t go so far as to call him attractive. but simply as a photographer yourself, you understood how well this angle could make someone look. it’s just that anyone would look this pretty under natural lighting and this decent viewpoint, even rhysand.

your professor looks displeased as none of your other classmates answer. for a moment, you’d almost gotten carried away with rhysand. you quickly notice the time, how class is almost over, meaning you would get back your latest exam papers that were promised last week.

a bell rings and everyone begins to pack their things, you stand up to grab your test paper from your professor as you walk out. you close your eyes for a few moments in anticipation before you’re staring at the mark saying “96” on the page.

you smile to yourself, this mark had been what you predicted in order to maintain your current grade. you’re eager to leave and go back home to celebrate with mor until rhysand follows you out.

he slides in front of you, blocking your path and you roll your eyes at him. “what did you get, y/n?” rhysand’s voice is calm but has a chilling undertone that almost intimidates you.

your heart sinks when he shows you his mark saying “98” in comparison to yours. you bite your cheek before revealing that you scored two marks lower than him.

“well, it seems answering all those questions in class won’t help you on the exams,” rhysand smirks, staring at his paper that he held in front of you before folding it away.

you look up at him, your gaze completely cold and calculating. “it’ll help me when i graduate as prythian’s top student. and you can be my second.”

rhysand stares you down, tilting his head as he leans down to be closer to you. he lowers his voice as he says to you, “i don’t think so, y/n. because at the end of the day, i’ll always do whatever i set my mind to.”

you want to slap off that wicked grin on his face as he walks away. rhysand had always got on your nerves, pissing you off everyday in class, but after today you knew that you had no other option than to outdo him completely.

somehow you’d allowed for him to do better than you on an exam. rhysand, who was born with everything he could ever ask for and then some. you needed to prove to him, to everyone, that you were just as capable. although you didn’t have that kind of support and you did everything yourself, that you were still better than him. if not for the sake of your future, then because it would inflate his ego.

“if you don’t stop brooding, i think you’ll be stuck like this forever,” elain says before taking a seat next to you. there’s a comforting smile on her face as she asks, “is everything okay, y/n?”

you’re about to open your mouth in response, but your throat feels dry from two hours of doing nothing but school work at the library. elain could tell that you were upset today from the way your eyes were laser focused on the textbook in front of you and your tired expressions.

“y/n is upset that rhysand got a better mark,” nesta chimes in, placing a stack of books down on your table. she wipes the dust off her hands and joins the both of you, her work at the library could wait. nesta always got away with ignoring her tasks, her friend gwyn turned a blind eye and the head librarian was too busy to really care.

“oh,” elain muttered. “i’m sure you’ll do better than him again,” she tried to reassure you. nesta laughed, “rhysand’s an asshole.”

“some people can’t handle i got a higher mark than them,” rhysand’s voice echoed in your mind. you needed him to stop plaguing your thoughts, if only rhysand would let you have some peace of mind for once.

you can’t do anything but nod at nesta’s comment. if there was one person who despised him as much as you did, it was probably her.

without a doubt, your roommate morrigan was your closest friend at prythian and probably of all time. although it was an unlikely friendship, your roommate always balanced you out by encouraging your photography career and telling you to be more outspoken. while you weren’t as close with nesta and elain, the sisters were good company. you would even consider them to be genuine friends, nesta would always open the library for you and was someone you could study with while elain always offered to be there for you. perhaps your social life at prythian wasn’t so bad after all, although you would admit that you had compromised it at the expense of your grades.

having three friends was plenty. it was more than enough, and you certainly didn’t need to get any closer to a certain group of boys on campus that showed up every turn you walked, or at every test you take.

— NOTES

y/n and rhysand are both majoring in astrophysics! it’s the study of stars and astronomy (because yk… night court)

y/n is nice to a grand total of three people 😀 it’s okay babe

rhysand and y/n have been competing for top student since freshman year at prythian

— TAGLIST

@thelov3lybookworm @summerandsalt @lilah-asteria @therealmoonstone @just-a-social-casualty-1 @ashjade19 @girlontheblock-blog @cherry-cin @daughterofthemoons-stuff @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sweet-chai-amore @kierramofficial @noelli-smv

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